Awkward... Automatic Doors

What a day. Lengthy classes full of grilling work and now I have fifteen minutes before the next class to grab something to eat. I rush down the slope towards the shop. It’s one of those irritating ones with the automatic doors that aren’t really automatic, you have to press a button on the wall to get you to let you in.
I follow a couple of other students into the shop and began sauntering up and down the aisles as indecision grips me. Chicken and Bacon sandwich or fajita wrap? Or both? Is it part of the meal deal? What is the meal deal? Eventually I am able to make my choices and after decifering the meal deal options I head to the till.
“£4.99 please.”
I put my card into the reader.
“Sorry we can’t do card for anything under a fiver.” I stare incredulously. One pence short. I grab a chocolate bar and finally pay. Irritably I grab my items and storm off, heading for the door. Suddenly my head strikes glass as I clatter into the door and fall to the floor. It hadn’t opened.
“Sir, the button’s on the wall.”

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